


Organized Chaos

by fyrshi (ChiaRoseKuro)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Fluff, Humor, Levi-centric, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overwatch References, Rating May Change, References to Drugs, Slice of Life, Slow Build, as in eventual Ereri whenever that may be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-10-29 02:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10844310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiaRoseKuro/pseuds/fyrshi
Summary: The thing is this: Levi is the sort of man who wakes up at precisely 5:30am to go for a run, simply because his neighbourhood is the sort where nobody dares to go out unless there’s light. He’s the sort that paved over his front lawn and backyard with concrete so crickets can’t find a place to hide (they hide in his attic instead; it drives him absolutely insane) and downs four cups of tea on days off because he can. He does things for his own convenience, has done so for the past thirty-odd years of his life, and—Levi’s not quite sure what he did in a past life to deserve this, but here he is anyway.Life is simple and uncomplicated for Levi, right up until he gets dumped with two kids and a shitload of problems he never asked for.





	1. Labascate

**Author's Note:**

> First off, if there's any genre I'm least confident in then it's got to be a Slice of Life story (or Romantic Comedies, it's pretty close). I don't really know why I'm writing this, except cleaning out my old WIPs turned into 'well if I changed this from a _Naruto_ story to a _Shingeki no Kyojin_ one...' and eventually became 'fuck I haven't slept in two days but at least this first chapter is done'. Anyhow, the story is up and available to the world. Unlike most, if not all, of my other stories, I have no clear plot in mind and the only things I'm certain about are the main pairing (Ereri, with a 10 to 15 year age gap depending on how you interpret things) and which characters are dead in this 'verse (none of them!), so this will be as much of a wild ride for me as it is for you.
> 
> If you don't like substantial age gaps in relationships, homosexual couples, scatalogical (i.e. poop-based) humour, any other sorts of inappropriate or sarcastic humour, a general disregard for UK/US English (I tried to stick to one or the other, but Australian English is weird in that we like to use both, and I haven't kicked the habit yet) and rambling attempts at storytelling, you may want to spare yourself and press the 'back' button. Also, minor manga spoilers apply for Levi's canon surname, which will be referenced quite explicitly within the first few lines of Chapter 1. Otherwise, have fun learning new words as I struggle with chapter names (it'll become evident when I reveal Levi's occupation, or before then if you're a good guesser) and coming along for the ride!
> 
> Because this is primarily for my own entertainment and to (quite possibly... oh, who am I kidding) air my dirty laundry about my college experiences, this will contain a lot of my own college experiences. If you'd like to contribute to the story and add in any stories you'd like any of the character(s) to experience, drop me a line on my [tumblr](http://chiarosekuro.tumblr.com/) and I'll be sure to credit you accordingly. Special thanks to [Crunchy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/) for letting me incorporate his life experience into the story as well and my dearest Oreo, who sits through all my rants and is probably tired of me bitching about my group members for the billionth time (I sincerely hope you don't read this and laugh at all my salt; I have a lot accumulated from the years, okay?).
> 
> With any luck, updates will be fortnightly on Mondays, but we'll see what happens.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **labascate** / læbˈaskeɪt / _verb._  
>  to begin to fall or slide  
>  _in use during 1727; originated from Latin ‘labascō’, lit. “I totter (begin to fall; I waver, yield)”_

* * *

  

“Thank you again, Uncle Levi,” Mikasa pipes up from the passenger seat.

“Just Levi is fine,” Levi mutters through gritted teeth, and tightens his hands around the steering wheel.

Traffic is terrible in the tunnel; everyone and their mothers have somehow found their way into there and Levi just wants to slam his head against the horn. Only the thought that his forehead might imprint oil onto it stops him from doing so… that, and the face his younger cousin (third cousin four times removed, if he wants to be technical about it, but who the hell’s counting?) might pull at his actions. Granted, he’s yet to see Mikasa make a face that isn’t deadpan in its seriousness, but he’s not going to change that just because he wants to flip off whoever’s driving in front of him.

Still, there’s a limit to how slow people can drive. There’s also a limit to the government’s stupidity in thinking two lanes would be enough to funnel thousands of cars from the west to the city, and he’s just about ready to hop out of the car and _walk_ to the fucking terminal. Pollution and certain death to his lungs aside, it should be pretty manageable.

In the end, only the thought that he’d be leaving his car here ( _unattended_ , at that, and who knows what sort of idiot might crash into it when he’s not looking?) keeps Levi from doing what he wants.

The thing is this: Levi Ackerman is the sort of man who wakes up at precisely 5:30am to go for a run, simply because his neighbourhood is the sort where nobody dares to go out unless there’s light. He’s the sort that paved over his front lawn and backyard with concrete so crickets can’t find a place to hide (they hide in his attic instead; it drives him absolutely insane) and downs four cups of tea on days off because he can. He does things for his own convenience, has done so for the past thirty-odd years of his life, and—

He’s stuck in traffic with a cousin who he didn’t know about until a month ago, ready to pick up her adopted brother and give them a roof over their heads. He’s swearing (internally, by some miracle) at some asshole cutting into his lane because the fast lane is actually _slower_ than the slow lane, all because he agreed to something he didn’t even _realize_ he’d agreed to until it was too late.

Levi’s not quite sure what he did in a past life to deserve this, but here he is anyway.

The only consolation is that he can see the exit they need to take and Mikasa is just as fond of silence as he is; the only thing that Levi can hear is the smooth rumble of his car and the expletives in his head, which almost makes this feel normal. Blocking off some stupid jackass who tries to merge in front of him (he’s been stuck in that godforsaken tunnel for half an hour, he wants _out_ and he wants it _now_ ), he probably turns a little too hard when they come out of the tunnel, but his cousin doesn’t say a word. He can definitely see the family resemblance in her rigid back, though.

 _It must be uncomfortable,_ he suddenly, awkwardly thinks, and fixes his eyes on the road before he does anything too weird and out-of-character (like talk or, god forbid, _fidget_ behind the wheel).

By the time Levi pulls into the pick-up zone, the silence isn’t pleasant so much as it is oppressive. Given that he prefers silence to meaningless chatter or other vapid means of social interaction, he’s not too sure what to make of his relief and confusion when Mikasa unlocks the door and slips out. He stares as she weaves between the people scattered around, red scarf trailing forlornly behind her, but turns away when someone pulls in to park beside him. From what he knows, she’s in her teens; he doesn’t have to hold her hand (after he makes sure it’s properly sanitized, thank you) and coddle her to death.

Yet he still considers getting down for a moment, as strange as that is. Sure, Levi would prefer sitting around in his car and postpone his meeting with his cousin’s adopted brother for as long as possible, because he can count the number of times he’s made a good impression on one hand. Mikasa isn’t scrawny or weak by any means, and the two of them could probably carry whatever luggage he has between themselves. He’ll have to pay $7.50 if he exceeds fifteen minutes, and he’d rather spend the money buying some outrageously expensive tea if he really wanted to throw that sort of money away.

There’s a million and one good reasons why he should stay put, but Levi throws them all to the wind and gets out of his car anyway. He thinks about crawling right back in when the heat clings to him, but only lets out a longsuffering sigh before he slides sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose.

Sometimes, he wonders why he moved from London to Sydney, but consoles himself with knowing that he’ll be back in ten or less.

Resisting the urge to glare up at the sun (he tried, once, back when he was smaller and far stupider), Levi trudges past people fanning themselves and others talking loudly into the phones. It’s been a while since he’s set foot in the international terminal but his feet know where to go, leading him across roads and through carparks until he gets to the arrival lounge. When he spots Mikasa’s scarf in the milling crowd, he takes a seat beside her and idly wonders if she’ll wash it when they get back.

 _Surely,_ he thinks, _there must be sweat on that_.

Rather than voice _that_ aloud, though, Levi settles for a curt, “Is his flight delayed?”

“No,” Mikasa replies flatly, and stops staring at him in favour of swivelling to look at a new arrival. When it’s clear they’re not her brother, she turns back to him and adds, “He should be out soon.”

Levi pushes down a sarcastic _I wonder when ‘soon’ will be_ and narrows his eyes instead, scanning the trickle making their way outside.

He spots an elderly couple, a family with three whining children and a man with a wrinkled suit before he sees Mikasa get to her feet from the corner of his eye. It’s not until Levi’s looking, _really_ looking, that he spots a young man breaking into a grin and trotting up to them.

His looks are… unexpected, to put things nicely. Levi had never bothered to learn much about Mikasa’s adopted brother, given that he’d been preoccupied with learning about Mikasa instead, so he doesn’t know half the things he should (like his name, for instance, or what he’s planning to study while he’s here). Even so, he finds his gaze trailing over startlingly bright eyes, an equally dazzling smile and hair that doesn’t look as though it’d been brushed in years.

When the boy extends his hand and begins with a grateful, “Thank you for having me, sir,” Levi eyes his hand and crinkles his nose a little.

“Just Levi is fine,” he iterates, and something flashes in the boy’s eyes.

Levi’s barely registered the emotion (curiosity, maybe, but he’s not quite sure) when Mikasa steps forward, rests a hand on the boy’s shoulder and interjects with a quiet, “Let’s go, Eren.”

The boy– Eren– turns to Mikasa and grins at her, affectionate and warm, before fending off her attempts to push his luggage trolley. Levi, for his part, trails after them at a respectable distance and allows them to catch up, before wordlessly piling the luggage into the boot when they get to his car.

They make it out with a minute to spare and Levi drives through the infernal tunnel with the sounds of low conversation and soft laughter in the back seat. It takes all of his willpower (and a good deal of swearing beneath his breath) to make it home without honking his horn or flipping someone off.

 

* * *

 

What little Levi knew of Mikasa Ackerman had been dumped on him during one fine afternoon.

The afternoon in question had not, in all honesty, been ‘fine’; there was an infernal heatwave, Hange had barged into his home to take full advantage of his aircon (because _someone_ was a cheap bastard and didn’t want to spend money on their own) and his writing block was truly awful. Only the thought that his mother would chew him out kept Levi from hanging up or lobbing the sorry device at his wall when his phone rang, but no force in the world could stop him from growling as he accepted the call.

Needless to say, his mother had chewed Levi out for it anyway.

At some point, Hange had wandered in to laugh and cheerfully utter, “You should be treating Kuchel better, she’s a dear!” but Levi had ignored it, more for his sanity than anything else. It didn’t stop his mother from launching into an approving monologue about his friend (“And you should really get more friends, ma petit chou, Hange’s lovely but you can’t stay cooped up in your room forever!”) but at least it took less than an hour for her to stop rambling and get to the point. It made him wonder, at times, if his absent father had been reticent, or he’d simply picked up his habits from someone else.

“Levi,” his mother started, abruptly cutting into his thoughts, “your house has three bedrooms, no?”

“It’s a _duplex_ , Maman, how many times do I have to tell you?” Levi groused back, but acquiesced with an ill-humoured, “But yes, I have two extra bedrooms. Are you planning to visit?”

“Oh, no, I could never!” Levi couldn’t help the loud snort he gave, especially not when he could still remember the way his mother succumbed to heatstroke during the early dregs of spring, but muffled it in time to hear her disgruntled, “You really should’ve moved in with your uncle, it’s much easier to reach France.”

“Because I would’ve done _spectacularly_ in a country where I couldn’t speak the language fluently,” Levi replied, barely refraining from rolling his eyes.

His mother, for her part, only laughed before she continued with a more serious, “But no matter. Do you remember the little girl we kept in our house the year before you moved out?”

“You make her sound like a pet,” Levi grumbled, but dutifully cast his mind back to the tail end of his undergraduate degree, just before he graduated and made the move to Australia. When he found an image of a pale, dark-eyed waif hiding in his memories, he tacked on a curt, “I remember her face, but nothing else.”

“Oh, she’s your cousin.” Barely giving time for Levi to digest this rather startling discovery, his mother had continued with an airy, “Anyhow, she got accepted into a university near your home! Isn’t that lovely?”

“Yeah, sure, that’s great,” Levi flatly said, “but what does this have to do with me?”

“Ever the gentleman, aren’t you, ma petit chou?” Levi had felt a flush creep up his cheeks when his mother gently admonished him, but she’d (mercifully) moved on before it became too unbearable. “Well, Mikasa has a scholarship for her degree but it only covers her university fees, and she doesn’t have enough money to cover the cost of a dorm or rent.”

“So you want me to take her in,” Levi found himself uttering.

“I knew you wouldn’t mind!” It wasn’t until his mother launched into a tangent on how pleased Carla (whoever that was) would be and that _surely you wouldn’t mind having her brother staying too, would you?_ that Levi realized he was in deep shit.

“Maman, you can’t just—”

“That’s settled then! I’ll get Carla to send you details about Mikasa’s and her brother’s flights– they’re taking different ones over because she’s going to Japan to visit her mother’s relatives, you know– and let you sort it out, okay?”

“ _Maman—_ ”

“Lot of kisses, ma petit chou!”

By the time Hange poked their head in to check on him, Levi was staring blankly at his Word document and muttering rapidly under his breath. It was a pity, really, that they didn’t try and ask him what was wrong; it would’ve been nice to use that as an excuse and throw a stapler at their head.

He threw one anyway, just for the sheer hell of it, but disappointed himself when their ponytail wasn’t stapled to the wall.

 

* * *

 

The last time Levi had roomed with someone was in the first year of his postgraduate studies; it had also been his last time, had lasted for a grand total of a month and was an experience he never wanted to go through again. People didn’t stay the night, unless they were drunk and went by the name of Hange… but they usually slept on the floor so it didn’t count anyway. It would’ve made logical sense to live in a one-bedroom apartment; even if the housing bubble was ridiculous, the rent would’ve still been cheaper than back at home. The fact that he was living in a duplex with three bedrooms was a little puzzling, at times.

Honestly, he didn’t even _know_ why he had so many bedrooms. It wasn’t like he slept in different bedrooms every day for the sheer hell of it, and vacuuming them all was a pain he could do without.

Yet here Levi was, fishing out an extra pair of slippers from his drawers as Mikasa drags the largest of Eren’s suitcases to the door, ignoring her adoptive brother’s protests in lieu of slipping her shoes off. She shakes her head when he moves to take the suitcase from her, but smiles when he slips past her and toes his shoes on again. It doesn’t take too much time to heft the rest of the luggage in, until all of it is sitting in a haphazard pile on his formerly-clean floor.

Levi’s phone rings and he fishes it out, glancing at the caller ID before he rejects it out of principle. Hange’s a persistent bastard when they want a chat, but there’s a brat yawning in his entrance and he remembers enough about jetlag to leave the luggage and conversation as is.

“Your room’s upstairs, right down the corridor,” Levi begins without preamble, letting Mikasa brush by as he jerks his head to the stairs. “Your sister knows the ground rules but I’ll tell you them when you’re not dead on your feet; chances are, you’ll forget it if I lob that shit at you now.”

He’s not sure if Eren registers it through another jaw-cracking yawn, but Levi doesn’t have the heart to care. Rather than having the boy shuffle around downstairs and wait until night falls, he chivvies his newest tenant to his room and unceremoniously closes the door behind him, before he heads right back downstairs. It’s not like he’s going to loiter and tell a bedtime story when it’s ten in the morning, after all, and he’ll deal with how filthy the kid is later. Preferably never, if he has any indication of what good hygiene is.

“I’ll wake him for lunch,” Mikasa utters as soon as Levi comes into view, and he nods curtly in response.

Leaving his cousin to her phone, Levi makes himself tea and waits for Hange to call again. The smell of his favourite herbal brew, though relaxing, isn’t enough to get him through the conversation he has with them (but it never is, so he just sighs and bears it as well as he usually does; which is to say, not very well at all). By the time Mikasa leaves to wake Eren up, he’s grumbling under his breath and slicing the cucumbers with more vigour than necessary, but the salad is coming along nicely so he keeps it to a bare minimum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [M5 Tunnel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M5_Motorway_\(Sydney\)#M5_East_Motorway) is a terrible, real thing, just like [Australian heatwaves](http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-02-11/heatwave-moves-across-australias-eastern-states/8261520) and the exorbitant [P9 parking fees](http://www.sydneyairport.com.au/go/car-parking/international.aspx) at the International Airport. 'Maman' is French for mum and 'ma petit chou' is French for my little darling, if my French isn't too rusty. Also, I live right beneath the attic and the crickets love cavorting there, as well as in the front/back yard; a neighbour's already paved over their front yard (probably for other reasons) but I want to do it too if it means the crickets _leave me alone_. So, yeah, that's where my experiences came in.
> 
> I know that my fic notes are ridiculously long and I'm _still_ tacking on more, but I just wanted to thank you for giving this a chance (and reading my chapter notes; apparently, that's not a thing with most people). Next chapter will see Levi giving a quick rundown of his house rules with Eren, which goes about as well as expected, and we'll get to see a little more of the boys interacting! So that's something, at least.
> 
> Anyhow, if you're interested in how the fic's going (or any of my other works), feel free to check out [this](http://chiarosekuro.tumblr.com/waffles) handy dandy link. I tag all my tumblr posts concerning this fic as 'fic: Organized Chaos' so if you want to see any extra information, hit up my tags there~


	2. Eristic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **eristic** / ɛˈrɪstɪk / _noun._  
>  a person who engages in disputation; the art of disputation  
>  _still in use; originated from Greek ‘eristikos’ – ‘erizien’, lit. “to wrangle” – ‘eris’, lit. “strife”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have an early update to celebrate me not dying from my assignments (which will probably happen next week, as I will have even more then).

* * *

 

When Eren finally stumbles downstairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning almost continuously, Levi’s set out three generous bowls of salad and a glass for each of them to one side. Technically, his isn’t a glass (tea doesn’t taste as good when it’s not in a teacup, no matter how much everyone else in this strange country insists otherwise) but it’s not like anyone’s going to take offence anyway. Besides, he’s not going to set out his teacups for people who might not enjoy his brews; that would be a waste of his leaves, and he hasn’t managed to convince Hange to grow any for him.

He’ll get around to it one day, though. Hange can only screw with its genetic code so much, and he hasn’t ever tasted a bad cup of tea (except for the one time he found a dead fly at the bottom of his cup, but that wasn’t the tea’s fault).

Eren doesn’t seem to have any complaints when he notices the difference, at any rate, so Levi begins eating his lunch in his usual silence. Apart from the occasional yawn and the clinking of cutlery, the silence hovers easily between everyone seated at the table. Or, at least, that’s the case until Mikasa starts talking to her adoptive brother and he replies through yawns or, worse, a mouthful of salad.

Someone, it seems, didn’t teach the kid manners.

Levi’s well aware of his own ground rules and Eren will be aware of them soon enough, but the urge to tell the boy off for spraying bits of lettuce and tomato over the table gnaws at him. He takes a slow and measured drink from his tea, shutting his eyes against the flecks of half-eaten salad scattered across his table, but there’s more when he opens them again.

Exceptions will have to be made if he wants to save his table, which is the only reason why Levi barks out a sharp, “Pick and choose, kid; either eat your lunch or talk to your sister.”

Ignoring the ungainly choke Eren makes at his sudden interjection, Levi grabs his teacup and takes a fortifying sip from it. It’s impossible to ignore the way eyes zero in on his hand; it’s a common response, especially in the rare instances when he goes out to eat and orders something to drink, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. Even so, he does his best to avoid the kid’s intense stare and sets down his cup before returning to his salad. In time, the kid stops staring and returns to his lunch.

At least, until he opens his (half-filled, because the kid’s ears are clearly just decorative appendages) mouth and blurts out, “You hold your cup weird.”

“Eren!” Mikasa hisses, gaze darting to Levi apologetically before it pins her adoptive brother down.

“Astute observation,” Levi dryly replies, ignoring Mikasa in favour of glaring in Eren’s direction. “Now eat your fucking salad and stop spraying it everywhere.”

For a moment, Eren’s eyes fly wide open and something stormy crosses his face, mouth threatening to let something more than half-eaten vegetables fall out, but Mikasa elbows him in the side and he subsides with a pointed glare. Levi, for his part, barely refrains from rolling his eyes before he returns to his food. The silence that falls upon them for the rest of lunch weighs heavily upon their shoulders.

Ordinarily, Levi would wash everything afterwards, partly because there was nobody else to wash it (until a week ago, anyhow) and mostly because he’d heard horror stories about cockroaches and other nasty insects feasting on dirty dishes. There’s something horrifying about touching someone else’s saliva and the remnants of their food, especially if they’re slobs that don’t clean their plate fastidiously, but he doesn’t trust the dishwasher to clean all the plates and cutlery to his standards. He trusts other people even less, of course, but Mikasa’s already taking the plates with a meaningful glance in Eren’s direction, so…

“Make sure you wash them properly,” Levi tells her, before he turns to Eren and says, “Come.”

There’s a mulish expression on Eren’s face when Levi turns away, but heavy steps plod after him as he climbs the stairs. Soon, the sound of running water and hands squeaking against plates are nothing more than background noise, fading into the muted hubbub of traffic and birdsong outside.

 

* * *

 

Technically, Levi’s duplex has four bedrooms, but the second-largest doesn’t resemble a bedroom so much as it does a study. It’s a bother to clean if he’s not religious about it; both the books lining the shelves and a rug Hange insisted on foisting upon him make for great places for dust to gather, and he swears the crickets like to camp right outside the window at nights. When he’s not grousing over everything that could possibly go wrong with the converted bedroom, it’s not too hard to admit that the room is cosy enough. Besides, nobody has to know that he likes curling up in the armchair and staring outside when he’s feeling particularly uninspired.

Levi’s tempted to curl up in it right now, actually, given that he can hear Eren shuffling his feet on the carpet (and probably rubbing dead skin cells into it, too). It’s the most comfortable place to sit and this particular conversation, though brief and short to the point when he had it with Mikasa, does not promise to go the same way with this boy. Not that he really _knows_ how it’ll go, seeing as he doesn’t really know Eren apart from what little he’s gleaned of his character, but he can guess.

So Levi keeps things short and simple by pointing to the sofa beside the door and saying, “Sit.”

Eren just stares back, tilting his head a little to one side with a wide-eyed look, and Levi rolls his eyes before repeating himself with a rough, “Put your ass on the cushion; it’s not rocket science.”

There’s a flash of anger again, sudden and vivid, but Eren purses his lips and does as he’s told. Given that Levi had been expecting an outburst or, at the very least, a swift and dirty glare, he thinks he’s entitled to an arched brow when gives into his urges and sinks into his armchair. Even so, there’s still something smouldering away in the boy’s gaze when their eyes meet again.

It’s nothing like Mikasa’s perfectly controlled expression, nothing like Hange’s mercurial emotions, and Levi doesn’t quite know what to make of Eren and his flickering, barely-muted rage. Rather than let it simmer, though, he does the next best thing.

“Look,” Levi starts, when Eren’s face is dangerously scrunched up, “if you need to take a shit, go take a shit. Otherwise, spit out whatever you’re thinking.”

There’s a moment where nothing but birdsong and traffic fills the air between them, but then Eren’s eyes widen and a puff of air, barely audible enough to count as a gasp, escapes his lips. Levi snorts, despite himself, but rolls his eyes right after.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s begin.” Levi crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans back into the armchair, before he narrows his eyes at Eren’s faintly bewildered expression and clarifies, “It’s just the house rules, brat, stop looking so damn terrified.”

“I’m not scared!” Eren abruptly snaps. A lesser person might’ve flinched, given the strength of his voice, but all Levi does is cock a brow when the kid tacks on, “And don’t call me brat, either; I’m more or less an adult anyway.”

“Which is something you’d know I’m aware of if you’d shut your trap and _listen_ to me,” Levi growls. “Now, are you done with your hissy fit, or can we get down to business?”

For a moment, Eren’s mulish gaze bores holes into Levi, but the boy finally concedes with a petulant, “Whatever.”

Hange has told Levi on multiple occasions (and in details he never wanted or needed to know) that he is a terrible judge of character, but even _he_ can tell the boy’s not going to roll over and concede defeat. For all that Eren’s sitting ramrod-straight on the sofa, hands folded primly on his lap and eyes staring at a particularly interesting spot on the wall, his leg’s still jittering beneath his hands. That, along with the crease between the boy’s brows, is more than enough to clue him in on Eren’s simmering emotions.

 _‘Emotionally stunted’ my arse_ , Levi derisively thinks, and drapes an arm over his chair for the hell of it.

“First of all, you’re… what, nineteen?”

“I’ll be turning twenty this year,” Eren stiffly replies, eyes unblinking and still staring dead ahead.

“Okay, that’s great,” Levi says in a tone that suggests otherwise. “Either way, this country thinks their eighteen-year-olds are adults, so that’s what I’ll be treating you as. Nobody’s going to do your laundry unless you have a good reason for it, nobody’s cleaning up after you unless you’re too incompetent to do it yourself, and nobody’s going to cook for you unless you try burning down my kitchen.”

“But you made a salad for me just then,” Eren interjects, brows furrowing further despite himself.

“And you didn’t know the rules,” Levi retorts with a roll of his eyes. “Besides, you were dead to the fucking world; what makes you think I’m masochistic enough to shake you awake?”

“You got Mikasa to do it, didn’t you?” Eren defiantly asks.

“What makes you think she didn’t volunteer?” When Eren’s eyes dart to his face, Levi arches a brow and watches as the boy’s ears go red. “Again, I said _I_ will be treating you as an adult. I don’t care about what your sister does, she could treat you like the crown prince if she wanted to.”

An alarmingly loud snort erupts from Eren’s nose at the comment, but Levi leaves the boy to wallow in his ensuing embarrassment as he adds, “That doesn’t mean you can live in your own little bubble and pretend we’re not sharing a living space. Mikasa’s already volunteered for chores; I expect you to do the same as well.”

“And what if she _wants_ to do my share?” Eren’s ears are still a vivid shade of red, but his eyes don’t waver when they find Levi’s this time. “What if I’m busy or I always have a good reason not to wash the dishes or clean the toilets or do whatever else you’re going to make me do?”

“I won’t _make_ you do anything,” Levi quietly replies, when the silence has stretched for long enough, “but this is _my_ house and _I_ make the rules.”

For the first time during their exchange, Eren’s leg stills as he wrinkles his nose. “But isn’t that a, uh…”

“Contradiction? No, but it’s an insinuation.” As Eren’s nose scrunches a little more in his confusion, Levi sighs and utters, “To put things simply, you’re only here because I'm letting you stay here.”

Eren makes to leap out of his seat, eyes aflame and mouth half-open, but Levi pins him with a deadly glare and he subsides, albeit with his own dirty look. When the kid’s settled back, leg jittering and back ramrod straight, Levi rubs a hand over his face and says, “Look, I’m not your dad.”

“I sure _hope_ you’re not,” Eren grumbles, but Levi only glares until the kid subsides with a grumble.

“I’m not going to beat you with a stick if you piss me off,” Levi continues, when he’s sure Eren doesn’t have anything else to say, “I’m not going to coddle you if you cry, and I’m not going to wipe your ass when shit happens. What I _will_ do is screw you over if you screw with my routine, evict you if you do it too many times, and let you do whatever else you want if you follow my rules. Understood?”

There’s a stubborn set to Eren’s jaw and a fire smouldering in his eyes, but Levi abandons his relaxed posture to lean forward and iterate, “ _Understood?_ ”

After an eternity of staring, Eren sighs and mutters, “Fine, yes, I _understand_.”

“Good,” Levi replies, even though Eren’s jaw is tensed and his shoulders are no better. “Then let’s finish this so you can start unpacking and I can get back to my work.”

 

* * *

 

The rules, Levi explains, are really quite simple; everyone’s rooms are off-limits to everyone else unless explicit permission is given, rosters for their chores are stuck on the fridge and revised as necessary, and visitors are only allowed if everyone else approves of them. He hands over a small set of keys and tells Eren which one’s for the front and back doors, which one’s for the side gate and which one’s for the garage. Keychains and other keys, he makes sure to tack on, are not provided.

Eren doesn’t really get the addition, but it doesn’t bother Levi much.

Then there’s the usual spiel about late nights, pets, shared utilities and shared spaces. Eren’s eyes are somewhat glazed over when Levi’s done but it’s not surprising; he saw the way his hands had fiddled with loose threads in his trousers and how frequently his gaze slid out the window. There’s one point when his mind returns, in between the possibility of paying rent and arrangements for travelling to the airport, but the answers are monosyllabic and Levi doubts he’ll remember much of it later on.

It’s something that he should be bothered by, in all honesty. Both Mikasa and Eren are on student visas so they’re allowed to work a bit, and he expects them to foot the bill for their share of whatever they happen to use once they get paid. If Eren’s going to shirk employment and hole himself up in his room to play games, like most young people seem to do these days, Levi’s going to give him skid marks in his underwear. That’s not even mentioning all the _other_ things that could go wrong, too, like forgetting to lock the doors if he’s the last one awake or leaving the rubbish bins on the curb for strangers to throw their trash in.

Even so, Levi still remembers when he first stepped off a plane and almost fainted from Sydney’s fierce heat. Remembers the way he’d refuse to work at fast food joints because there wasn’t much in the way of cleanliness, the trouble he ran into on the odd times he let himself go bar-hopping, and…

“Just ask if you need me to repeat anything in the future,” Levi finds himself saying, and pushes himself out of his armchair as Eren blinks up at him.

When he passes Mikasa on the stairs (or, more like, nearly trips over her because she’s hunched up against the wall, pressing her ear into it like her life depends on it), all she gives him is a level look before she stands up, dusts herself off and walks purposefully to the study. Levi finds himself mulling over the emotions carefully tucked away and smoothed over on her face, so much like his own when he’s trying to hide something important—but what could be so important for her to hide?

Levi checks the dishes, just in case she’s stuffed that up, but everything is wiped down to perfection and placed in their rightful spots. The table, too, is as clean as it could be. It’s not until he’s midway through steeping his tea that he hears the muffled sounds of Eren’s protests, and then…

 _Ah,_ Levi thinks, and ruefully shakes his head.

When he traipses upstairs with his steaming mug in tow (because teacups may be the best receptacles for one’s tea, but they’re far too easy to spill over keyboards when one isn’t paying attention), Levi catches a glimpse of green from the corner of his eye. He turns and locks gazes with Eren, for a few silent moments, but then Mikasa latches a hand onto Eren’s collar and there is only a yelp lingering in the corridor. For a moment, he dithers on the top step, straining for something other than dust mites dancing in the air and what sounds like Mikasa’s hushed attempts at berating Eren, but a ping comes from his room and he sighs, heavy and quiet.

With dragging steps and a spare thought for vacuuming everything sometime tomorrow, Levi enters his room and shuts the door behind himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asian cuisines will often offer tea in a teacup, but it's the white ceramic sort that doesn't have an ear (but there are places where you'll get offered tea in a plastic cup, too, and that's just plain weird). I have a dishwasher at home but I have no idea why we don't use it; I guess we're just used to washing dishes by hand at home. The study is based on my bedroom, except my bedroom is _actually_ a bedroom and this one here isn't, obviously, but I'll get around to drawing it so people can see what I envision it to look like (the study, I mean, not my bedroom; for one, the window shows my neighbour's brick house and a bit of their roof, so what kind of view is that?). We're also legally adults when we're eighteen here, so... yes, we can drink; yes, we can purchase weapons; and yes, we pay the full adult fare for public transport and get tried in adult courts and all that jazz. The horror stories I've heard from my brother working at fast-food joints have convinced me to never work at any, if possible, and people actually throw their trash into passing bins on collection day when you don't haul 'em in quick enough, which is rude as all hell.
> 
> Anyhow, the next chapter's going to be everyone settling into Levi's home and a visit from an old friend, so stay tuned for it! If you're interested in how the fic's going (or any of my other works), feel free to check out [this](http://chiarosekuro.tumblr.com/waffles) handy dandy link. I tag all my tumblr posts concerning this fic as 'fic: Organized Chaos' so if you want to see any extra information, hit up my tags there~


	3. Obstreperous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **obstreperous** / əbˈstrɛp(ə)rəs / _adjective._  
>  resisting control or restrain in a difficult manner; noisy, clamorous or boisterous  
>  _still in use; originated from Latin ‘ob’, lit. “against”, and ‘strepere’, lit. “make a noise”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat is contained between long line breaks, with the respective speaker's handle **bolded**. No time stamps were affixed to the end of the handles (as Discord usually does).
> 
> Also, I'm sorry to anyone who may be irked by this, but I spell Furlan's name as 'Farlan' in this chapter and will likely continue doing so for the duration of this story.

* * *

 

“You know,” Isabel says, face glitching between static and a rather severe frown, “I feel like you should be asleep. Don’t you have a shift at work tomorrow?”

“If you haven’t noticed, it’s _already_ tomorrow here. I’m a time traveller, remember?” Keeping his voice as neutral as possible, Levi tacks on, “There’s a reason why #SpaceAustralia exists.”

“That’s not how the tag’s used, Levi,” Farlan interjects, smiling wearily in the odd moments when his face is visible. “But… just… get some sleep, okay?”

“Or fumigate the hell out of those crickets!” Isabel yells, startling an affronted hiss out of Levi. “It worked last time, didn’t it?”

“Only for a day, unfortunately” Levi grumbles, eyes narrowing at the money he’d wasted on wishful thinking. “The fucking things are immortal, I swear.”

“You, on the other hand, are _human_ and require _sleep_ ,” Isabel insists, though the overall effect is somewhat ruined by the haze of interference. “So get to sleep before I tell Maman and make her yell at you!”

“Don’t you dare—”

It’s too late; Isabel’s already disconnected with a final “I’d better not see you online in the next five minutes, _or else_ ,” and Farlan’s followed with faintly sheepish laughter. Levi’s inclined to think that it’s at Isabel’s indignation more than anything else, but the way his old friend had saluted at the camera before disconnecting could definitely be interpreted otherwise.

Even so, it’s hard to get angry at Isabel and Farlan, not when their weekly Skype calls often go for a solid hour and their chat logs rarely go unanswered for more than half a day. The only people he spends more time with are his mother (she doesn’t call much, but his phone bill suffers whenever she does), the colleagues he shares shifts with and the two kids currently sleeping down the corridor from him. It probably says a lot about his social life, but Levi does his best to shove those concerns to the side and check the time.

Which he promptly regrets when a distinctly Isabel-like voice says, _I told you so!_

Still, Levi’s not a stranger to pulling all-nighters and doing his job in the afternoon, so it doesn’t take him long to switch from Skype to Discord, turn his notifications off and his status to Invisible, then find his week-old chat log with Erwin.  
  


**Levi:** You up for a round, old man?

**KOmmander:** You’re barely younger than me  
**KOmmander:** And isn’t it late where you are

**Levi:** Fuck off, Isabel’s chewed me off for the time already  
**Levi:** Now do you _want_ a round or do you not?

**KOmmander:** Sure why not  
**KOmmander:** I’ve got nothing better to do before dinner with Mike

**Levi:** Don’t lie, you’ll be doing Mike before you do dinner

**KOmmander:** ):  
**KOmmander:** Could we not

**Levi:** …Fine. Let’s do a comp with randoms.

**KOmmander:** Your fault you’re playing out of everyone else’s usual time

**Levi:** _Fuck off_ you shitty old man  


  
The banter continues for a while as Levi boots up his alternate account and grimaces at the name; Erwin had created it when he’d come over to visit and, as much as he appreciates knowing that nobody would link _ShortStackX_ to him, it pricks at him. Only the thought that Isabel might see Erwin on, connect his late-night companion to Levi and make good on her threats stops him from changing it, but it certainly doesn’t stop him from muttering a profanity in his mic as they queue for a game.

Erwin, the insufferable fool that he is, only laughs good-naturedly at his mounting irritation. Levi’s only comfort is in knowing that his swift but steady middle finger is never seen by him (and that Erwin’s most likely cringing by the time he’s done swearing over their group voice).

There’s nothing more to argue about once their team is complete; or, at least, until an Assault map shows up. Even though Levi would ordinarily swear or provide _very_ unflattering commentary for such situations, there’s two kids sleeping mere metres away… and though they might be adults by this country’s standards, he’s pretty sure Eren drools in his sleep and Mikasa’s likely no better.

So Levi does his best to control his volume as he smashes keys and aggressively goes about assaulting the defence, as the map name would suggest. It’s a thankless task and more than one team member is actually a noob, hollering for health packs or a healer because they barrelled right into the line of fire, but he and Erwin have played games like these for years and it makes for experience that’s nothing to be sneezed at. Still, it doesn’t stop him from wishing that friendly fire was an option, though it also doesn’t stop him from stepping back and watching his (entirely useless and unnecessarily loud) teammates get mowed down within seconds of respawning, either.

It also doesn’t stop Erwin from abandoning his vulnerable character when the bastard catches onto Levi’s neglect tactics, and soon it spirals into a vicious cycle of increasingly preventable deaths for both themselves and their team. In the chaos of switching between offense and defence, capturing points and then losing them almost immediately, doing a piss-poor job of defending uncaptured points and fooling around, it’s easy enough to lose and easier still to snap back at the ungrateful turds on his team. Not even Erwin’s (admittedly half-arsed) efforts to keep the peace work and, within seconds, the noobs are haring off to hide behind the skirts of other, more tolerant players.

Levi, for his part, keeps his profanities to a low growl and hopes that the noises don’t seep into the kids’ ears.

By the time the sun’s peeking over the horizon and it’s high time for Levi to go on his run, he’s tilted so badly from a succession of noobs that he’s almost surprised he hasn’t dropped more than a tier. It’s nothing he can’t recover and he’s not as invested in the game when it’s this account, but there’s still a scowl on his face when he swaps goodbyes with Erwin, logs off and changes into his running gear. Only the thought that Erwin would complain about the game to Mike (over their long-overdue dinner, because the fool gets _way_ too invested into these games for his own good) stops him from spiralling down into a bad mood, but the front door still slams behind him when he leaves.

 

* * *

 

Once upon a time, Levi’s legs would feel like jelly and his lungs would threaten to collapse whenever he ran or went at a fast jog for a good half-hour. Now, when he steps through the door and dries his face with a small towel, his breathing is steady and his legs ache pleasantly whenever he moves a little too fast. There’s the beginnings of windburns on the tips of his ears and his shirt is a little damper than usual, no thanks to the sun shining merrily outside, but everything is fine. Everything is routine.

Everything becomes a little less so when Levi stumbles upon Mikasa on the stairs, stifling a yawn with one hand while rubbing at one eye with the other.

It’s not until he’s in the shower, water scalding his skin and turning it an angry pinkish-red, that Levi remembers the sun shining in full force outside. In the few days Mikasa’s lived with him, it hadn’t taken him long to note that, much like the rest of his family, his cousin is an early riser that rarely (if ever) sleeps beyond sunrise. He’s yet to figure out if she’s got other Ackerman traits, like being a light sleeper or indulging in inhumanly quick showers, but the thoughts are enough to occupy him as he scrubs his skin red, vigorously washes his hair and dries himself off with rough, rapid strokes.

Mikasa’s boiling water when Levi goes downstairs, hair faintly damp and body flushed warm. It’s strange to feel a tight shirt squeezing around his torso when he rummages around for his half-finished box of cereal, but his cousin’s sitting right behind him and somehow, the thought of letting her see him in a pair of boxers isn’t exactly a pleasant one. She makes room for him when he sets his cereal (some sort of plain bran that Hange swears is for old people, but which he thinks is perfectly healthy and entirely palatable) and a carton of skim milk on the table, but doesn’t say anything.

Which, as far as Levi’s concerned, is just fine with him. The less he has to extend himself for the two new lodgers in his home, the better.

Levi’s halfway through his bowl of cereal and contemplating the benefits of a nap versus a fortifying cup of tea when he hears a thud, what sounds like something profane and a series of undignified noises he can’t even _begin_ guessing at. A quick glance to his right gives him a suspiciously deep frown on Mikasa’s face, one that only deepens when she abandons her breakfast (overripe bananas sliced onto bread, if he’s not mistaken) and makes for the stairs. It’s definitely better than the alternative, which involved him doing whatever his cousin was doing up there, but…

There’s thoughts drifting through his head about stains on the sheets, blood on the carpet or whining he doesn’t have the time or patience for. There’s muted conversation somewhere above his head, approximately where Eren’s bed is, and he thinks he catches words that he doesn’t want the context to, _especially_ if they mean what he thinks they mean.

“Yeah, no,” Levi mutters to himself, and banishes his thoughts in favour of polishing off breakfast.

When Eren traipses down the stairs, scratching absentmindedly at his horrifically-wild bed-hair, Levi turns back to his cup and does his best not to wrinkle his nose. He’s just substituted it with an eye-roll when Mikasa follows, eyes glittering with something he hasn’t seen before, and pointedly takes a seat back at her plate.

“Mikasa!” Eren whines, sleep-dazed and hurt, and Levi roughly brushes past them before he can lose his temper or, worse, waste a perfectly good cup of tea.

He doesn’t stay to listen to their argument or spat or _whatever_ it’s meant to be, but it doesn’t stop Levi’s teeth from grinding when he hears the faint echoes of Eren’s whines trail after him up the stairs and smack against his bedroom door.

 

* * *

 

There’s nothing on his Word document when a faint knock disturbs the relative silence; relative, because Levi might not have anything _typed_ yet, but the same cannot be said for the state of his notepads. Point A and B have been mapped out to within an inch of their lives but what of the path in between? Tapping his pen against the closest notebook, he forces down the urge to chew on the tip (a bad and utterly unclean habit that he’s doing his utmost to break) and almost has a solution within his grasp when—

“He’s an old man, Mikasa, you might have to knock a little louder.”

The door is slammed open so fast that Eren almost topples forward, only managing to steady himself by latching onto the nearest thing. In between the boy’s vibrantly red cheeks, Mikasa’s widened eyes and a very, very sustained attempt to count to ten, Levi stares pointedly at the hand on his bicep. The less he thinks about where that hand’s been (and, more importantly, whether it’s been washed by its owner recently), the better it’ll be for his peace of mind.

“Shit,” Eren breathes out, grip tightening ever so slightly around Levi’s arm, and…

“If you’re quite done fondling my arm,” Levi dryly utters, “I’d like it back.”

Eren almost smacks himself in the face when he removes his hand, his motions so fast that they make his arm blur through the air, but Levi only purses his lips and watches him with narrowed eyes. In his periphery, he can just make out Mikasa’s eyes darting between her adoptive brother and himself as her own lips also thin a little, but what grabs his attention is the wide smile on Eren’s face. Specifically, the wide smile and weird eyebrow scrunch he’s doing, which Levi _thinks_ is some sort of attempt at looking cute but only makes him look a shade more personable than a serial killer.

Thankfully, though, Eren subsides as soon as Levi barks out an unimpressed, “Remember what I told you about taking dumps, kid?”

“I’m not a kid!” Eren blurts, five seconds too late and with his face aflame anew, “And I _don’t_ need the toilet!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Levi deadpanned, before he crosses his arms and growls, “now, what was that about an old man?”

It’s amazing what fear can do to someone’s complexion, and Levi never tires of the way people pale whenever he pulls out his Patented ‘You’re Fucked’ tone (coined by Hange, used solely by Hange and is secretly a name he completely agrees with). As he fights to keep his smirk off his face when Eren does just that, looking far less tanned beneath the weight of his impending doom, Mikasa clears her throat softly and his gaze swivels to her.

“I apologize for Eren’s lacking manners,” Mikasa starts, sounding not the least sorry or repentant, “but I wanted to ask you something, Uncle Levi.”

“Levi is fine.” Given that Mikasa’s been tacking on ‘Uncle’ to his name ever since she landed a few nights ago, though, he only huffs out a put-upon sigh before uttering, “What do you need?”

“It’s not really a need,” Mikasa replies, uncertainty creeping into her tone, but Levi’s hardly identified it as such when she ploughs on. “It’s a request… if you’re not busy.”

“Oh c’mon, Mikasa, he can’t be _that_ busy,” Eren scoffs, nudging her good-naturedly with his elbow. “I mean, it’s not like he could do much in there. I bet you that he’s—”

“What, not working?” There’s frost in Levi’s voice but fire alight in his eyes, and Eren’s mouth falls open as he takes an involuntary step back. “Being some sort of shitty adult, _jerking off to fucking porn_ ; you might as well just accuse me of everything while you’re at it, you ungrateful little—”

“ _You’re_ the one getting offended, _you’re_ the one that acts like he’s holier-than-thou, could you _get off your fucking high horse_ for more than a _second_ maybe?” Eren hisses, words almost indistinguishable under the thickening of his [accent](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IGckWsXvJ8) as he steps forward threateningly.

“Look, I never _wanted_ you in my house,” Levi snarls right back, the inflections of his shared accent rising up in response. “If I had my way, I would be living alone, not bothering with a shitstain like you!”

“Oh, boo fucking hoo, so you don’t have everything to yourself anymore,” Eren simpers, mockery adding a venom Levi neither cared for nor appreciated in the slightest. “Well, you agreed to it so you may as well put up with Mikasa and I until—”

“EREN!”

If Levi’s voice had been frost then Mikasa’s is positively glacial, cracking in the air between them and shutting both their mouths within seconds. Eren’s barely winced from the sensation of teeth clamping over his tongue when she discreetly pinches her adoptive brother, ignores his yelping and bows her head in an apology.

Which, going by the iciness of her glare, is absolutely insincere and likely hides resentment that will fester for a while. If it wasn’t for the inevitable chastisement (and, worse, _disappointment_ ) if Maman ever caught wind of it, he would be turfing them both out of his house right now, their age and lacking funds be damned.

When he’s certain that Mikasa doesn’t want to smite him down where he stands (or Eren, for that matter, if the way he’s a little further away from his adoptive sister is anything to go by), Levi pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs through it. By the time he’s counted to seven in his head, the faintly murderous light in his cousin’s eyes has been smothered and Eren isn’t looking quite as emotional as before. At ten, he can even pretend that nothing had happened, which is good enough for him.

“So?” Levi prompts, when it’s approaching twenty in his head and Eren is on the verge of picking his shirt apart. “What did you want from me?”

Levi’s eyes dart to Eren’s inexplicably clenched jaw, but his gaze returns to Mikasa when she bows her head and murmurs, “We’d like you to show us around town.”

“Isn’t Google Maps good for that?” When Mikasa lifts her head and stares at him, Levi shrugs and adds, “There’s also reviews online if you want good places to eat or do whatever kids do these days.”

“Yeah, but it’s different if we’ve got a local showing us around.” Eren shifts uncomfortably beneath Levi’s arched brow, but glances to Mikasa and stops fidgeting. “It’s not like we know who does what sorts of shady business in which restaurants, you know.”

“And I’d know that because…?”

“It’s okay if you have other things to work on, Uncle Levi,” Mikasa interjects, ignoring the exasperated look Levi shoots her for his title, “but… we’d appreciate it.”

It’s tempting to take Mikasa up on the offer and retreat to his room. Levi may not have the strongest faith in the brat shuffling in front of him, but his cousin is level-headed enough to navigate around town and not run into, as her adoptive brother so charmingly put, ‘shady business’. Besides, it’s not like he’s ever _seen_ street races and drug deals with his own eyes, so what’s the chances that either of them will see anything?

Except there’s a spectre of his mother rising before his eyes, ghostly echoes of _I’ve taught you better than this, ma petit chou_ ringing in his ears, and…

“Fine, let’s go on an excursion,” Levi grumbles, and does his best to ignore the shocked expressions on Mikasa’s and Eren’s faces as he shoves past them and clomps down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mother doesn't run for forty minutes, but she does go for a nice long stroll around our neighbourhood for that long and come back looking pretty unruffled, which was a huge difference from the dripping, heavily panting person who once stumbled through our doors. When I was younger, my brother once fell out of bed really loudly... and I was the one who ran over, only to find him tangled in the sheets and looking decidedly embarrassed (which is more than what I can say for Eren here). As for 'shady business', my suburb is reputed for being pretty shady, but I've never seen a drug deal happen (though I had friends visit me once, and they claimed that they saw one within five minutes of stepping off the train).
> 
> Special thanks to my dearest Oreo for helping me out with _Overwatch_ lingo, pointing me to its wiki and subsequently delaying the chapter's release because I spent so much time obsessing over which heroes would suit which characters and watching pro players go at it. For those who aren't familiar with the terminology (like I once was), competitive matches are played with a team of 6 that you either form yourself or the game randomly chooses for you, consecutive losses result in the exponential loss of EXP (i.e. 'tilting') and, as this is set in late February, the competitive season at the time featured an 'Assault' map (where one team captures and the other defends for a period of time before they switch over; for more information, check out the relevant entries in the OW wiki). It might be advisable to brush up on the basics of the game if you don't know much about it, because I will be going into detail as later chapters crop up and, though I'll do my best to explain everything, I don't want to bore anyone who has background knowledge in the game.
> 
> Next chapter is going to introduce Levi's suburb and his workplace, so stay tuned for it! If you're interested in how the fic's going (or any of my other works), feel free to check out [this](http://chiarosekuro.tumblr.com/waffles) handy dandy link. I tag all my tumblr posts concerning this fic as 'fic: Organized Chaos' so if you want to see any extra information, hit up my tags there~
> 
> Before I end this abnormally long note, though... would anyone be interested in seeing Eren's POV in this story? I'm thinking of either integrating a few Eren-centric chapters into this existing story or writing a parallel one that blend together events from this story with "deleted scenes" or "filler scenes", if you will, in places that Levi's POV would otherwise skim over. If you'd like to have a say on whether I do either or, feel free to drop me a comment on my [tumblr](http://chiarosekuro.tumblr.com/ask/) or leave one here!
> 
> [ edited June 13, 2017 - a link to Eren's accent (Brummie) has been included ]


	4. Zemblanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **zemblanity** / zǝmblænɪti / _noun._  
>  making unhappy, unlucky and unexpected discoveries occurring by design  
>  _still in use; coined by William Boyd in 1998 as an antonym for ‘serendipity’_

* * *

 

By the time Mikasa and Eren make their way down the stairs, shouldering backpacks that remind him of obnoxious high schoolers and sporting expressions that don’t help the image, Levi’s got his duffle slung onto one shoulder and is in the process of putting his shoes on. He takes the time to appreciate his own foresight (or his Maman’s, really, because who knows whether he’d have packed his bag the night before if she hadn’t made him do it every day as a kid) but, whilst his cousin is busy slipping into her shoes, the same can’t be said for her adoptive brother. If anything, all his running around reminds him of a headless chicken, which is enough to make him toss between a laugh and a huff.

It’s a strange sensation, given that Levi was all for throttling Eren a few moments ago, and something must’ve shown on his face because Mikasa looks somewhat nonplussed by his side. Even so, that doesn’t stop him from arching a brow and growling, “Hurry up, brat, we don’t have all fucking day to waste on you!”

“Keep your hair on, I’ll be done in a moment!” This time, Levi can’t help staring at the strange look that crosses Mikasa’s face– but, true to his word, Eren almost barrels into his adoptive sister, drenched water bottle in hand, and begins shoving his shoes onto his feet.

Grimacing a little at the water rolling down Eren’s hand and dripping onto his welcome mat, Levi turns away and busies himself with locking the door. Thankfully, by the time he’s done, the boy’s looking thoroughly chastised by whatever Mikasa’s been whispering into his ear and his hand is looking a little drier, though the same can’t be said for the side of his pants.

_It could be worse_ , Levi tells himself, but he’d be more convinced by his own words if he couldn’t feel the disdain pulling down on his lips and furrowing his brows.

To distract his mind from figuring out exactly _how_ much worse it could get, Levi strides towards the front gate and nudges it open as he says, “I’ve got work in three hours so I’ll give you a quick and dirty tour, grab a bite to eat and head off. Unless either of you have any specific places you’d like to know about, we’ll be walking around town.

“And I will _not_ tolerate whining from either of you,” Levi hisses, though his eyes are more on Eren than Mikasa when he issues his threat. “If you can’t walk the fucking distance between here and every other place in town—”

Which took an hour if he was slow or constipated; Levi hadn’t _wanted_ to do the latter, he really hadn’t, but what choice did he have when Hange was a persistent shit on a mission?

“—then you can forget about this whole thing. Any questions?”

When Mikasa and Eren stare at his (likely stormy) face and don’t make any obvious move to answer, Levi nods curtly and steps aside, allowing his two young charges to follow after him. With a final lingering look at his room, he shuts the gate and beckons to them with a jerk of his head.

_It’s going to be a_ long _three hours,_ Levi can’t help thinking, and barely suppresses the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

 

* * *

 

On a good day, when the traffic lights feel cooperative and there isn’t someone blocking the entire path and walking with all the speed of an overweight snail, Levi takes approximately ten minutes to walk from home to the train station. Granted, it might take less time if he jaywalked or did other things to cut the commute time, but he’ll be _damned_ if he steps onto the grass just so he can overtake someone; he’s seen dog shit stuck to people’s shoes and it ain’t pretty. Besides, he might not be as unlucky as _some_ of his colleagues, but if one of them can get into an accident on a _zebra crossing_ then he’s sticking to obeying pedestrian rules, thank you very much.

The only problem with Levi’s usual pace is that, for all that people call him small (or less flattering things, until they get a good solid punch to the face and reconsider their statement), he often forgets that he walks about as fast as most people _speedwalk_. This isn’t much of a problem when he’s trying to lose certain shitty four-eyed bastards or overeager colleagues who can’t take a hint and want to have a coffee with him, but he’s starting to realize how much of a problem it is when he reaches the traffic light and finds that there aren’t two kids behind him. A quick glance down the street finds Mikasa rounding the bend, face just as impassive as usual and without a hair out of place, but Eren’s another story when he follows right on her heels, red-faced and all the more annoyed for it.

So of course the first thing Eren huffs is, “What the hell, how can you walk so fast with such short legs?”

Only Mikasa’s timely glare, even more timely pinch to his arm and incredibly scandalized “ _Eren!_ ” save the kid from getting a solid kick to his shins.

It doesn’t save Eren from receiving the full brunt of Levi’s unimpressed glare, but at least he doesn’t have a developing bruise on his calf to make it worse. The fact that he’s kicked people with these particular pair of shoes and has borne witness to the agony from anyone caught by its pointiness helps in calming him down, too, and he spends the next few moments indulging in the welcome memories of pain and suffering from stupid giants.

When his murderous rage has bubbled down somewhat, Levi finds it in himself to dredge up a sarcastic, “How do you walk so slow with such long legs then, brat?”

The rest of their walk is spent debating the finer points of acceptable walking speeds, the correlation between the length of one’s legs and the length of one’s stride, and whether Eren is really a brat or just a gangly giraffe stuffed into a vaguely humanoid body. Although Mikasa’s hands twitch every now and again, mostly in her adoptive brother’s direction but occasionally in Levi’s as well, she stays relatively quiet and allows them to bicker, first in passably even tones and then with wild gesticulations on Eren’s part. Levi even finds himself rolling his eyes (a feat only Hange and Isabel manage with any consistency) and itching to fist his hands into Eren’s collar on a few occasions.

It’s possibly why Levi’s taken aback when he spots the post office looming before them. It’s been a while since he’s found himself so thoroughly engrossed in an argument that he’s lost track of where he is, but he ignores the strange looks Mikasa and Eren give him when he stops mid-step, waves at the squat red building off to their right and tells them what it is. Sure, there’s a POST emblazoned on the top and all, but one never knows with kids these days.

Then what follows is nothing short of a bore (and a workout for his right arm, but he’ll compensate for the imbalance later).

For one terrible moment, in between pointing out the RSL Club and the local high school, Levi wonders if he should’ve gotten a megaphone and a gaudy flag to seal the deal. Random pedestrians are casting him confused (and affronted, on more than one occasion, but it’s not like he’s _asking_ them to judge him when he says, “If you use the train station’s toilets, you’d better check yourself into a hospital if you don’t want to die”) glances, and he’s certain that Mikasa, at the very least, has cottoned on. At the very least, she _seems_ to be making notes on her phone whenever he points something out, so he can pretend he’s being useful to her.

Eren, on the other hand…

“How many places are you pointing _out_ to us?” he all but whines, roughly midway through.

“This isn’t a hick town out in bumfuck nowhere,” Levi spits out, glaring at Eren and pointedly ignoring the outraged hiss a passing mother gives as she scrambles to cover her child’s ears. All he does is roll his eyes, turn back to Eren and blandly add, “You wanted a guided tour of everywhere, so you’re going to _get_ it. If you’re that opposed to walking every street in the neighbourhood then by all means, go the fuck home and save me the trouble.”

One would think that, by the age of nineteen, one would be a little less inclined to act like a kicked puppy or sulk, but such is not the case with Eren. The only consolation Levi has is that the boy keeps his unwanted opinions to himself while he’s chucking his one-man pity party.

It’s not _much_ of a consolation, given that Levi catches Mikasa firmly shaking her head at Eren when she thinks he isn’t looking, but he’ll settle with what he can get.

By the time Levi points out the last point of interest in the town (the local CYC, where Hange’s tried to push him into picking up _tap-dancing_ of all things), his legs are burning pleasantly and Eren’s looking a little redder in the face than before. Unsurprisingly, Mikasa’s scarf is still wrapped snugly around her neck, but what catches his attention most is her unchanged expression. If he didn’t know any better, Levi would’ve thought she’d been enjoying a leisurely stroll around town, not taking meticulous notes while committing every feature he’s pointed out to memory.

Mikasa doesn’t quite smile at him when Levi gives her a curt (and, dare he say, impressed) nod, but it’s a near thing.

Levi takes them to lunch at one of the few eateries that don’t give him hives whenever he so much as _looks_ at it. It’s one of the newer and more reputable stores in town, staffed with polite servers that could wheedle a lesser man into splashing out on their outrageously expensive menu, but the prices are worth the service and, most importantly, the _cleanliness_ of the place. As he tucks into his donburi and half-listens to Mikasa conversing to their waiter in soft Japanese, he finds his thoughts drifting until—

“Didn’t you say he worked as some sort of university librarian?” Eren whispers to Mikasa (or _thinks_ he whispers; an elephant in a tutu would be more discreet, honestly), and seals the deal by darting a nervous glance at him.

“If you wanted to know,” Levi drawls, suppressing an eye-roll when Eren starts and his eyes snap to him, “you could always ask me. Or do you always talk about people like they’re not fucking there?”

He knows he’s being a bit of a dickwad; Mikasa’s gaze is flat and focused unerringly on his face almost immediately, and Eren’s eyes are burning more intensely than they were a few hours earlier. Levi’s never been much for being socially acceptable, but this sort of behaviour…

_Well,_ Levi thinks to himself, lifting a shoulder in half a shrug and downing half his tea straight after, _I guess that’s what happens when I play tour guide for unappreciative brats_.

“But for future reference: yes, I’m a part-time university librarian.” Levi reaches for his chopsticks, slants a look at Eren’s mulishly set face, and starts eating again.

There’s still food in Levi’s mouth when Mikasa leans over her miso soup and asks, “At which university?”

Levi rattles the name off in between one mouthful and the next. It comes to him easily and almost without thought, which isn’t surprising when he spent a good few years doing his postgraduate there, but the way his cousin’s eyebrows arch up makes him bristle.

Then Levi’s left bristling for a completely different reason when Eren exclaims, “Hey, that’s the place we’re studying at!”

He can see where this is going, even before Mikasa smiles warmly at Eren, which is precisely why Levi lets his lips thin and spits out, “No.”

Eren’s nose, Levi suddenly discovers, scrunches when he’s indignant. “But we haven’t asked anything yet!”

“And you think I don’t know the logical procession of events?” Levi sets his chopsticks on the table a little harder than necessary and glares at Eren’s pleading expression.  “No, I’m _not_ giving you a guided tour of the university as well; that’s what O-Week is for.”

“We know that, Uncle Levi,” Mikasa quietly interjects, and bulldozes right over his disgruntled _just Levi is fine_. “We just don’t know how to get there yet, and…”

“You want me to take you.”

In the silence that follows, Levi finishes off his donburi and refills his teacup while pretending he can’t see Mikasa and Eren trade significant glances. If he hadn’t seen their faces when he’d left his room and prepared for their ‘excursion’, he might’ve been tempted to laugh at their expressions.

It doesn’t stop Levi from plonking his teacup down with a loud clatter so he can roll his eyes while they stare at his fingers instead of his face, but that’s for him to know and for them to never find out.

“Neither of you have Opal cards,” Levi states blandly, ticking off each item off on one hand. “Both of you can’t keep up with me when I’m walking. I would rather eviscerate myself than catch a train to work. I don’t trust Eren in the library—”

“Hey, I can be quiet!”

“—and frankly, aren’t you both tired after the past hour?” Levi finished, ignoring Eren’s outburst.

“We are, a little,” Mikasa admits, and demurely chews on a bit of tempura, “but we wouldn’t mind walking a bit more. It’s okay if you’d rather not take us though, Uncle Levi.”

How can Levi say anything when his cousin phrases it like _that?_ He minds for all the reasons he stated before (and for others he doesn’t state, but only because Maman taught him better), but Mikasa’s either politely devious or just deviously polite, and he doesn’t know which is which. What he _does_ know is that he’s been had, even before he heaves a longsuffering sigh and drains his cup again.

Still, Levi’s not the sort to acquiesce gracefully, which is why he huffs, “If you expect me to hold your hands on the train, you might as well jump in front of one right now.”

It’s entirely satisfying to see Eren splutter and growl when Levi gets up to pay the bill, but the mood’s soured a little by the way Mikasa dips her head and smiles with her eyes.

 

* * *

 

True to form, the train station is as disgusting as ever when Levi steps through the barriers and trots down the stairs, Mikasa and Eren and their temporary Opals in tow. An ibis honks forlornly and flaps away in a cloud of dust, leaving the lingering stench of trash to mingle with the smoker’s down the platform, and it’s all Levi can do to stop himself from gagging. One thing he _hasn’t_ missed about the dorms was their proximity to his classes and everywhere else he needed to go, and that one advantage is starting to look more and more alluring by the second.

The train pulls up while Levi’s contemplating turning around and heading right for his car, traffic and Mikasa’s request be damned. It’s no better inside, what with one obnoxious person slavering over their lunch and a baby screaming on the other side of the carriage, but he manages to make himself perch on the least faded seat available. Unaware of his inner turmoil (or perhaps they’re aware and ignoring it; it’s not like it makes a difference, either way), Mikasa and Eren peer around and settle into the seats opposite him, before they sink into quiet conversation.

Levi whiles away the time by staring out the window and jotting ideas down. There isn’t much else to do, unless he’s interested in being an insufferable gossip and eavesdropping on Mikasa’s and Eren’s conversation, but it doesn’t take much effort to catch what they’re talking about anyway. It’s England this and university that, homesickness and anticipation and culture shock all rolled into one, and he can’t help the way it reminds him of himself, all those years ago.

The him before Hange and what heatwaves _really_ meant, the him that hadn’t seen a future with deadlines and accidental acts of kindness… what would he have to say about the him in the here and now?

As stations blur past, Mikasa and Eren emerge from their private bubble to throw questions his way and answer a few of Levi’s. By the time it’s their stop, Levi’s aware of their degrees (psychology for Mikasa and secondary education, of all inane things, for Eren), the classes they’re looking forward to most (Eren’s eyes glaze over when Mikasa starts talking and only sheer force of will prevents Levi from doing the same) and the prospects of having a social life on campus. Indeed, the last one’s still being debated rather hotly when they alight, with Eren almost staggering into the gap because he’s too busy extolling the virtues of anime in comparison to chess.

“Why would you spend _hours_ staring at black and white squares?” is Eren’s latest protest as they trudge up the stairs and pass through the barriers.

“At least strategy gets used in real life,” Mikasa retorts icily, and Levi’s hard-pressed to keep his snort to himself when Eren squawks loudly in response.

Personally, Levi doesn’t really swing one way or the other, so the journey consists of impassioned points being launched from both sides in the hopes of converting another faithful. He does his best to point out landmarks and good eateries off-campus, in between all the impromptu lobbying, but he suspects he’ll need more than a megaphone and a colourful banner to catch their attention.

Eren’s just gotten started on how anime can have chess but chess would _never_ have elements of anime in it (and honestly, how he manages to go from mortally offended to sickening earnestness is beyond Levi) when the main library looms before them.

Not even his Maman’s spectre can stop Levi from rushing in and leaving them in the lurch, Mikasa’s disapproval and Eren’s indignation be damned.

“My shift starts in five minutes,” Levi says, unabashedly talking over whatever harebrained argument Eren’s trying to blurt out from ten steps behind him, “and I’d appreciate being on time, so _get going already_.”

“But I haven’t—”

“The purpose of this incursion,” Levi somehow manages through gritted teeth, “was _not_ to extol the virtues of anime and chess, as _fun_ as that might be. You’ve had your guided tour, you know how to get back to the station, so once again: _get going already_.”

Mikasa’s just opened her mouth with a truly frightening intensity in her eyes when someone behind Levi squeaks, “Mikasa? Eren? Am I hallucinating, or are you both really there?!”

In the moment it takes for the two to shift their gaze, forget their petty argument and have what promises to be a loud and enthusiastic reunion, Levi makes a break for it. Thankfully, he punches in three seconds before he’s technically late, but it’s something he never wants to repeat again. _Ever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My walking pace is Levi's out of necessity more than anything else; when I was younger and with my insanely fast-paced family, I was a lot more like Eren until I naturally adapted (so all my friends are now Eren while I'm a nicer version of Levi... I hope). The unlucky sod that got hit at a zebra crossing was my brother, but he managed to survive with nothing more than a bruise to his hip and a long staring contest with the unrepentant driver. For those who don't know what CYC stands for, it's 'community youth centre' and they do, indeed, offer tap-dancing and taekwondo amongst other things (I took tap-dancing when I was a wee kid, but dropped it for reasons I still don't know). Opal cards are electronic transit cards, which Sydney picked up a lot bloody later than practically everywhere else, and the Australian ibis is a blight on our train stations. If you catch the train past certain stations, you can even see their corpses littering the tracks.
> 
> For obvious reasons, the town briefly described in this chapter is not a verbatim version of mine; it's more like I took parts from surrounding suburbs, shoved it all into here and had at it. I'm also not going to name the university for equally obvious reasons and will be mixing what I know from my brother's university and my own into it, so it's not going to be an accurate representation of anything you may or may not know. Oh, and I know absolutely nothing of how university librarians work, outside of what I've gleaned from Crunchy, so if I'm a little scanty on those details in later chapters... well, now you know.
> 
> Anyhow, sorry for the (possibly more normal and) long note and the lack of updates for quite a while; the notes will probably not be getting shorter anytime soon, and who knows when updates will be regular again. Next chapter will have Levi pottering around at his job and a surprise visitor awaiting him at home, so stay tuned for that! If you're interested in how the fic's going (or any of my other works), feel free to check out [this](http://chiarosekuro.tumblr.com/waffles) handy dandy link. I tag all my tumblr posts concerning this fic as 'fic: Organized Chaos' so if you want to see any extra information, hit up my tags there~


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